


Shallows

by mnzel



Category: Mortal Instruments Series - Cassandra Clare
Genre: F/M, angsty, post - cohf
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-10-20
Updated: 2014-10-20
Packaged: 2018-02-21 21:08:49
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 679
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2482514
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mnzel/pseuds/mnzel
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>There was no denying it. He was gone. Post COHF</p>
            </blockquote>





	Shallows

_Let you go and let the lonely in // To take my heart again_

 

 

Despite rumors to the contrary, Shadowhunters had more in common with Mundanes than they'd like to admit. If you took away the years of training and conditioning, they were almost the same (disregarding the angel blood and The Sight, but you know, technicalities). It wasn't like they were born, knowing how to use a steele and disarm demons. They had to learn, just like the Mundanes. Only instead of learning the ABCs and how to use paste, Nephilim children learned how to use weapons.

  
Isabelle vividly remembered the first time she'd tried to used her whip. Her hold on it, her stance, was all wrong, and the rope had sliced her palm, drawing blood. The searing had pain pricked at her eyes and  While her mother bandaged her hand, Alec had sat by her, doing anything he could to distract her, but every time she closed her eyes, tried harder to pay attention to him, the gash was the only thing she could think of, the only thing she could feel.

  
Losing Simon was a lot like that.

  
The first few days, she'd tried, she really did. Got up in the morning, brushed her hair, even answered the questions she was asked. The numerous  
"How are you doing?"s,"How are you holding up?"s, burned holes in her brain.

  
So she stopped getting up

 

She'd lied in her bed, letting the misery wash over her in waves. Wishing it was her Magnus' father wanted. Wishing it'd been anyone, anyone but that stupid boy. The one who'd only gotten dragged into this crazy world because of his loyalty to his best friend. Who'd comforted her after her brother had been taken away. Who was such, such an idiot, yet one of the bravest people she'd ever known.  
They were Shadowhunters. He was, despite what Jace might claim, their friend. They should have saved him. She should have saved him. When Magnus' father had asked, she should have reached out, shrieked, screamed, begged for him to take her. But she didn't.  
Instead, the screams she didn't voice scorched her lungs in the middle of the night. The tears ran down her face like rivers.

  
She hated everything.

  
Hated the looks on their faces when they asked how she was feeling.

Hated the girl she saw in the mirror. One day, she'd punched her reflection, blood pooling on her fingers like paint on a canvas. Remembering, the pain of the whip, she'd hoped that it would make her forget. Instead, his face in her mind only intensified, glowing through the haze.

  
Hated him for being so courageous and foolish. They were the shadowhunters, meant to be brave, and he was just a mundane. He was allowed to be frightened, to be a coward. But he wasn't. She hated him for saying that he loved her, then leaving

  
She hated her amulet. She'd never liked it much in the first place, but since it was an heirloom, it wasn't like she could throw it away. But now, now that it was a physical reminder of everything that had happened, she hated it. Hated it with every inch of her being.

  
The night after they returned, one person short,  she'd found it in the pocket of her jacket, glowing like a beacon. She'd hoped, prayed for some miniscule comfort from putting it on. Instead, it'd felt like a rope.  
With a strangled sob, she'd torn it off and sent it sailing across the room.

  
When she picked it up later, she noticed a crack in the glowing stone. _Good_ She'd thought. _Good_.

  
Most of all, Isabelle hated herself. Hated herself for being so, so goddamn stupid. For ever hoping that anything would turn out alright. She knew, more than most, what kinds of dangers lurked out in the world, but she'd let herself be hopeful, careless with everything anyway; She'd forgotten.

  
Laying in her bed, chest and heart filled with emptiness, she promised herself that she would never forget again

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first time writing TMI fanfiction, and my first try at writing anything in a while, so I hope it wasn't too bad *crosess fingers*.


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